I am so thrilled and excited to share with readers an interview that the lovely Jill Hathaway was kind enough to take the time to do with me. If you have not read nor heard of Ms. Hathaway, you are truly missing out. She is a debut author and a brilliant talent! I read her book, Slide, a while back and fell in love with the characters, the story and Ms. Hathaway’s writing style and voice. She is simply amazing!
Please help me in giving Jill Hathaway a warm welcome to Romancing the Book!
April: Can you please tell readers a bit about yourself? What you like to do for fun, types of things you like to read, your favorite “hide outs”, etc.
Jill: A bit about myself? I like to spend time with my family, work out, and play board games. Dark young adult novels are my favorite ones to read–like FRACTURE by Megan Miranda and BETWEEN by Jessica Warman. My favorite hideout is the library. Lots of times I have to go there to write so I don’t have kids crawling all over me.
April: What is your biggest pet peeve?
Jill: Okay, to explain my biggest pet peeve, I must say that I’m a high school teacher. It drives me crazy when kids don’t read the feedback I give them on papers and work to make their writing better.
April: Do you have any “have to haves” while writing? Be it a “good luck charm”, a certain place to write, certain drink, etc?
Jill: I do have kind of a writing routine. During the summer, I’ll take the kids to daycare and then go to the library or Panera. I make myself crank out 2500 words or so (when I’m writing the rough draft). Then I let myself go to Barnes & Noble for a treat.
April: What is the title of your latest book? If you had to sell readers on a reason to read your book in 5 words, what would they be?
Jill: The title of my latest book is SLIDE. Hmmm, a five word pitch? Enter the mind of a killer. Oops, that’s six.
April: What is a book that you have read and loved so much that you wish everyone would take the time to read it?
Jill: As I mentioned earlier, FRACTURE by Megan Miranda is one of my favorites of 2012. She’s a phenomenal writer!
April: If you could have one superpower, what would it be and why?
Jill: My superpower would be the ability to read superfast so I could get through my insane TBR pile!
Thanks so much for taking the time to chat with me!
Please be sure to visit Jill at the following links:
About Jill Hathaway:
Jill Hathaway lives in the Des Moines area with her husband and young daughter. Having earned her BA in English Education from the University of Northern Iowa and her MA in Literature from Iowa State University, she teaches high school English and dual credit courses for Des Moines Area Community College.
Vee Bell is certain of one irrefutable truth—her sister’s friend Sophie didn’t kill herself. She was murdered.
Vee knows this because she was there. Everyone believes Vee is narcoleptic, but she doesn’t actually fall asleep during these episodes: When she passes out, she slides into somebody else’s mind and experiences the world through that person’s eyes. She’s slid into her sister as she cheated on a math test, into a teacher sneaking a drink before class. She learned the worst about a supposed “friend” when she slid into her during a school dance. But nothing could have prepared Vee for what happens one October night when she slides into the mind of someone holding a bloody knife, standing over Sophie’s slashed body.
Vee desperately wishes she could share her secret, but who would believe her? It sounds so crazy that she can’t bring herself to tell her best friend, Rollins, let alone the police. Even if she could confide in Rollins, he has been acting distant lately, especially now that she’s been spending more time with Zane.
Enmeshed in a terrifying web of secrets, lies, and danger and with no one to turn to, Vee must find a way to unmask the killer before he or she strikes again.
I’m slumped at my desk, fighting to keep my eyes open. A drop of sweat meanders down my back. It’s got to be eighty-five degrees in here, though it’s only October. When we complained, Mrs. Winger mumbled something about waiting for a custodian to come fi x the thermostat. Beside me, hunched over his desk, Icky Ferris stumbles through the words in Julius Caesar. We’re supposed to be reading in partners—but his monotonous tone, paired with the unintelligible Shakespearean language that gets English teachers all hot and bothered, makes me feel unbearably sleepy.
Heat is one of my major triggers—and, apparently, so is Shakespeare. Warmth crawls up my spine like a centipede. It reminds me of the time I was sitting in my dad’s car in
August with the seat warmer accidentally on. All the words in my book mush into blurry gray lines, and I know it won’t be long before I lose consciousness. The room starts to turn inside out, the seams pulling apart. I pick something in the room to focus on and end up
staring at an inspirational poster with a picture of a kitten hanging off of a tree branch. The caption reads: hang in there, baby! As I watch, the kitten’s face starts to melt. I slip down in my chair.
There are certain signs I’m about to pass out: drooping eyelids, muscles gone slack like spaghetti, a blank look on my face. My classmates have seen it enough times to be able to tell what’s happening.
“Sylvia,” Icky hisses, and then he claps in front of my face. “Snap out of it.” I blink and focus on him. Icky has a mullet and an unhealthy obsession with fi rearms, but I like him. He certainly shows more compassion than most of the kids at my school. “You okay?”
By now, everyone’s staring. It’s not really a big deal anymore, me passing out in the middle of class, but it is something to break up this boring October day. There hasn’t been any new gossip since the drug dogs found a bag of weed in Jimmy Pine’s locker—and that was two weeks ago. I’d like to avoid losing myself completely in front of these vultures if at all possible.
I hoist myself out of the chair and approach Mrs. Winger, my English teacher. She’s totally engrossed in something on her computer—probably solitaire. She’s the only one who didn’t notice me almost pass out. Her big desk is tucked in the very back of the room so she can ignore us. Pair by pair, my classmates’ eyes drop away from me and go back to their reading.
“Can I go to the bathroom?” I make my words small and humble.
She doesn’t bother to remove her eyes from the computer screen. If she did, she might see that it’s me, Sylvia Bell with the narcolepsy issue, and remember she’s been asked to let me leave the classroom whenever I need to.
Come on. Just let me go. LEMME GO.
The room spins and my knees start to buckle.
“Can’t it wait until class is over?” Mrs. Winger’s voice is snippy, cutting me into tiny pieces she can easily brush into the trash. She moves a stack of cards with her mouse. “Can’t your game wait until class is over?” I push a lock of pink hair behind my ear. I know it’s a bitchy thing to say, but screw it. It’s the only way to get her attention. She finally looks my way, irritation deepening the lines around her eyes. “Fine. Go. Five minutes.”
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